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I
my thoughts wandered as i slowly set my brush on the hard, wooden surface. as if on cue, the paint tipped over and soothingly caught onto the pen - like object, creating a dusty rose.
i remember.
i remember when you described blue and pink as if they were the only colors in the world.
but mine were red and black. mine held secrets that no artist could convey through their works of art.
i remember.
you held my hands with your warm, soft ones, and gently painted a sky like no other. it was your sky.
